


Sway

by lemonoclefox



Series: Sway [1]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec has a shop, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Crush at First Sight, Drama & Romance, Fluff, He's a little sad, I lowkey want to live in it, Light Angst, M/M, Magic, Sad Magnus, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Witches, not depressing sad Magnus just sad Magnus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 15:47:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15911355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonoclefox/pseuds/lemonoclefox
Summary: Alec's small shop has everything the modern witch needs -- and more than Magnus personally ever expected to find there.





	Sway

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back?? It's been six months, but I'm back. I guess.
> 
> I'm not entirely sure what this is -- the idea just kind of suckerpunched me, and I wrote this whole thing in about two weeks (after writing barely anything at all for quite some time, so bear with me). It's a modern human AU, but with witches. Basically. Mostly based on actual neopaganism, with a touch of canon elements and a sprinkle of my own ideas, to create *gestures vaguely* whatever this is. 
> 
> Best enjoyed with a nice, hot drink, a blanket, perhaps some candles, and [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L_LUpnjgPso) (at least in my opinion). Enjoy!

He doesn't look like he belongs―that's Alec's very first thought when the man steps into his small shop, the bell above the door tinkling gently. There's someone with him, a woman, currently in the middle of telling the man something Alec just barely catches the tail end of. It's nothing interesting, nothing that he even pays any further attention to, and Alec just throws them both a polite smile as they make their way into the shop. They return it, and Alec looks back down at his book. It's placed on the counter, held open by his right hand as he leans forward, resting his cheek against his left fist, elbow on the wooden surface of the counter.

He looks up a few seconds later, glances over at the potential customers as they browse the aisle that holds the small shop's surprisingly comprehensive candle selection. The woman clearly knows what she's looking for, now silent as the man wanders along the shelves, a finger lightly trailing along the edge.

He does look like he belongs―Alec sees that now. He looks a little uncomfortable, a little unfamiliar, but not as though he doesn't know what all these things are for. Strange, Alec thinks; most people who come in are either wide-eyed with curiosity, or positively disdainful and mocking as they humor the interest of whomever they're with. This man is neither.

Alec turns back down to his book. It's just past six p.m., a window of time when this place is pretty empty, and he likes to take the opportunity to just relax for a bit. The shop isn't exactly super busy, most of the time, but fall tends to bring out a lot of occult fascination among ordinary mundanes. Anything in the color orange or black, Alec sells a lot of, for two or three months out of the year. Not to mention candles and the occasional, shady spell that anyone who doesn't know the basics of magic wouldn't be able to use, anyway. He'd never sell those people anything actually dangerous, but if they want to play at being witches for a night or two, he's not about to stop them.

Alec blindly reaches for his coffee cup, sitting on the counter, and feels the disappointingly lukewarm ceramic surface beneath his fingertips. Still skimming along the page of his book―some cheap airport paperback he got once―he absently moves his left index finger in a pattern he could do in his sleep, before pressing his fingers against the mug and slowly feeling it heat under his touch. Within seconds, the coffee is back to a nice, steaming temperature, and Alec lifts the mug to his lips without looking, takes a sip. Perfect.

There's a murmur from within the shop, and Alec looks up. His newest customers have moved on to a different aisle, to a shelf lined with ink of various kinds, and Alec watches as the woman speaks to her friend. He seems almost exasperated, she almost annoyed, and the conversation is dropped in just a few moments. Alec frowns, wonders what they could be arguing about.

The bell above the door tinkles, and Alec looks up. It's a customer he recognizes, a regular, and he gives her a small smile as she heads into the shop. Alec tries not to let it, but his gaze slides back over to the man and his friend. The friend seems to have moved on to something else, while the man is still standing in front of the ink selection, as though distracted. Alec hesitates. If the woman knows what she's doing, it's likely that this guy does, too; he must know the different uses for the various blends of liquid concoctions, meant for drawing whatever symbols and patterns would serve whatever particular spell you need. But still.

Alec gently closes his book and puts it aside, abandoning his newly heated coffee to head over to the customer. It's a very small shop, and he reaches him quickly, somewhat hesitantly approaching him along the aisle.

"Hi," he says, in a tone he hopes comes off as friendly. The man looks up, as though snapped out of some deep thought. His style alone makes him stand out, in a way Alec distinctly suspects would look silly or contrived on someone else―this guy carries it well. The loosened scarf around his neck, long burgundy coat buttoned against the autumn chill outside, black hair styled into a mohawk that looks somehow bold and elegant, all at once. There's dark makeup around his brown eyes, which Alec hadn't noticed, at first.

"Hello," the man says. He sounds almost surprised, but Alec takes it in stride.

"You looking for anything in particular?" he asks. The man opens his mouth, closes it.

"Not really," he says after a moment, turning back to the selection of small glass bottles in front of him. "My friend's busy getting some stuff, I just―" He sighs, turns back to Alec with a smile. "Just lost in thought."

Alec nods slowly.

"Okay," he says, able to take a hint from a customer who doesn't want to be bothered. "Let me know if you need anything." He starts backing away, but points at the ink the man has been eyeing, in particular; it's a blend that's pretty basic, and used for a variety of spells. "That's a decent all-round one, by the way. You have a good eye."

With that, he turns around and heads back to the counter, back to his book and his coffee.

 

Alec is almost a little surprised when the man ends up actually making a purchase. His friend grabs the small, green-tinted bottle from his hand and pays for it herself, much to the man's apparently fond annoyance. The bottle―the one which the man was eyeing earlier―blends in nicely with the woman's own varied selection of items, and Alec tries not to stare at the man as he packs it all up in a bag, wrapping the more fragile items in protective paper.

The two customers are talking―one could almost call it bickering―and the woman seems to be in better spirits than when they arrived. She seems happy about the man's choice to buy anything at all, and Alec can't help but be curious as to why.

As the two of them thank him and leave the shop, Alec also can't help but absently wonder if the man will be coming back.

 

X

 

It's unfamiliar, yet Magnus falls right back into it within seconds. _Like riding a bike,_ he thinks, somewhat bitterly. The patterns he traces with the ink are distinct, complex, unique to the magic he learned as a child―they come to him without even trying. He knows the symbols themselves aren't bad, aren't dangerous or negative or dark―but when they've only ever been used for such things, it's hard to remove that association.

As he sits on his living room floor, legs folded, facing west with his candles lit, Magnus tries to think of the last time he did this. It must be years ago, now. Aside from the occasional, everyday spell, he hasn't made any real effort, done an actual ritual of any kind, and it feels a little strange to be doing it now. Strange, but still so completely natural.

He'll start small, he decides. A simple sleeping spell should be enough, something to help him relax and enjoy some dreamless, uninterrupted rest for the first time in what feels like weeks. He's been feeling tense lately, with work and responsibilities, and so many other, indefinable, and more permanent things.

The ink―chosen for its non-specific properties―is smooth as he slides it across the thin, pressed paper with his fingertips, leaving wet, moss green trails behind, forming those familiar spoke-like symbols and lines. He used to resent them, still does. He knows that most witches don't use them at all, but rather a myriad of others found more socially acceptable within their vast, eclectic community. Magnus feels self-conscious, almost ashamed, that these symbols are the only ones he has ever learned to use.

He's certain that that shopkeeper, for instance, definitely doesn't know how to use them, judging by the other, particular symbols drawn on various things throughout the shop.

In contrast, the pentagram is neutral, placed in the center of it all, a symbol used by every witch, regardless of affiliation or preference. It makes Magnus feel slightly better about the rest, and once it's all drawn in place, he takes a breath, back straight. The containing circle around him is in place, protective and soothing in its invisibility, and he gets to work.

Reaching a meditative state is easy, despite Magnus being slightly out of practice, and the symbols glow, softly, obediently, as the spell is spoken under his breath, the one he has used hundreds of times before. The words aren't quite necessary for someone with his skill and experience―he could focus his intention just as easily without them. But it somehow feels good to say them out loud, and after only a minute or so, Magnus realizes, achingly, just how much he has missed this.

The ink does its job―while it's not entirely needed for a spell to work, it does help channel the focus and intent of what you're trying to do, and by the end of it, Magnus knows this particular attempt has been a success. Despite the relief of it, however, he can't help but still feel oddly stressed, tense, albeit in a different way than before. It feels almost like guilt. Still, he tries to push it aside in favor of the lightness suddenly filling up his chest, and he thinks he might actually feel a little better as he clears up his things and goes to bed.

He has no idea what prompted him to even let Catarina drag him into that shop today, on an errand of her own. More importantly, he can't imagine why he even considered buying something, and why he actually did end up buying it. Well, Catarina bought it―she was happier about it than he'd expected, and he does appreciate that, despite his slight annoyance. He'll have to pay her back, sometime.

The night passes quietly, and when Magnus wakes up the next morning feeling more refreshed and rested than he has in much too long, he doesn't know if it's due to the spell, the relief alone of simply doing it, or both. He also finds that he doesn't really care, because it doesn't matter. Instead, he exhales, sitting up in bed, pulling his fingers through his unwashed hair.

All he can think about is going back to that shop.

 

X

 

It takes Magnus yet another day to return _._ It's part hesitation that makes him postpone it, part simply being busy, but when he walks along the sidewalk toward the shop after work, he half-regrets his decision. If nothing else, the wind is particularly strong today, making him pull up his scarf and squint his eyes, his coat tightly buttoned down, hands in his pockets.

The regret vanishes when he reaches the shop. The one storefront window looks warm and inviting, the sign above clean and without elaborate fonts or embellishments; _Lightwood,_ it says, plain and simple. Magnus pauses, a moment of apprehension, before stepping inside.

It's like a separate world, the moment the door closes behind him. He pulls his scarf down below his chin and takes a deep breath, filling his nose with the subtle, non-intrusive smell of pine bark that fills the space; unlike with most incense or candles, he finds that whatever this is lingers in the air as though it's there entirely of its own accord, without human intervention. He'll have to ask what it is―last time he was here, it was something more like lavender, which was just as pleasant and inconspicuous.

Other than that, the shop looks exactly like it did two days ago; small and well-stocked, but not cluttered, modern but warm, dark wood the dominant color and texture. It's just as welcoming and oddly familiar as Magnus remembers. Well, perhaps not oddly so; Magnus intimately knows the purpose of most objects in here. He just never expected to feel good about any of them, ever again.

Magnus takes a few steps further inside. He finds himself automatically looking around for the handsome shopkeeper he saw on his first visit, but all he sees are two people talking over by a row of books, and a dark-haired young woman currently restocking a shelf of notebooks, some plain, others more intricately decorated. She looks up, must have heard the door, and her eyes immediately find Magnus. She smiles, her lips red and her dark brown eyes warm.

"Hi," she says. Magnus must look a little distracted, because she adds, "can I help you find something?"

"Yes," Magnus says after a moment. "I was in here the other day. I bought some ink, and I'd like to expand my supply a little further."

He can't believe he's saying these words out loud, and that he means them, but the woman clearly doesn't find it odd.

"Okay," she says, now having paused in her restocking task. "What kind did you get?"

"The rather basic, but very effective kind," Magnus says vaguely. "I was actually assisted by a lovely young man who recommended it to me. Indirectly."

The woman nods in understanding.

"That would be my brother," she says. "He just stepped out, he should be back any―" She looks over Magnus's shoulder as the front door of the shop opens, the whistling of the wind outside briefly making its way in, before the door closes again― "second."

Magnus frowns slightly, and turns to look over his shoulder as well. His mouth actually drops open, just a little; it's the guy from the other day, dark hair ruffled beyond belief, cheeks and nose slightly pink from the chill outside. _Gorgeous._ The thought somehow takes Magnus by surprise.

The man slows to a stop, already unwrapping the knitted scarf around his neck, when he spots Magnus. He blinks.

"Hi," he says. It's more of an exhale, as though he's slightly out of breath. Magnus doesn't blame him; his own walk here wasn't the easiest either, after all.

"Hello again," Magnus says with a smile, once he manages to close his mouth and form some words. He turns around more fully, and the man takes a breath, then another, before his sister gently butts in.

"Oh, look," she says, putting aside the small box she was picking notebooks from. "A customer in need."

The man frowns, throws his hands up, scarf bunched up in one of them.

"You know you don't actually work here," he says, but his sister ignores him, heading over to the other end of the small shop. The man sighs, rolls his eyes, before landing them back on Magnus. He licks his lips. "So," he says, finally making his way into the shop. "I take it went well?"

Magnus frowns.

"What did?" he asks.

The man brushes past Magnus, unzipping his jacket as he goes. He smells nice, Magnus notes, the cold crispness of autumn lingering around a warmer, coarser scent beneath.

"The ink," the man says, eyebrows slightly raised. "I'm guessing you used it and that it went well, since you're back."

Magnus nods, catching on. God, there's just something about this guy that adds just the slightest bit of nervousness to his usual, casual self. It doesn't seem to matter that Magnus is by no means a novice when it comes to any of this, that this truly is his element.

Additionally, he shouldn't be so affected by the fact that this handsome, friendly man clearly remembers him. He straightens his back, ignoring the soft, intrigued pull in his chest.

"It did," he says, watching the man shrug off his jacket and step into a back room to hang it up. "Surprisingly."

He can't help but add it with a frown, and the man mirrors it when he emerges to stand behind the counter instead.

"How so?" he asks. Magnus hesitates, pulling off his wool-lined, black suede gloves, as though to just have something to do with his hands. He's not sure why he said that.

"Well," he says, with some hesitation, "let's just say it's been a while. Since I practiced."

The man straightens a little where he stands, which only serves to emphasize his already rather considerable height.

"Oh," he says. He inclines his head. "Well, I'm glad I could help. A little bit, at least."

Something almost awkward seeps into his tone, and Magnus can't help but smile, amused. It does help bring back his usual confidence, too.

"You did," he confirms. "I found the ink more―" He gestures with his hand― "potent, than I'd expect from a shop like this. No offense." He realizes as he says it how snobby it sounds, but the man behind the counter gets it, judging by his laugh.

"None taken," he says. "I'm very aware that many shops like this don't actually know what they're doing."

Magnus chuckles.

"Agreed." There's a pause, as the two of them just stand in silence for a second, or two. Magnus clears his throat. "That said, you officially have my patronage. Until further notice."

The man pulls back, an exaggeratedly impressed, baffled look on his face.

"Oh," he says, his tone mirroring the expression perfectly. "Patronage. Well, I am honored, sir. Shall we get it in writing?"

Magnus laughs, looks to the side as he accepts the highly warranted teasing.

"Just show me what else you have," he says in a tone much too familiar and flat for an interaction this new, but the man is also laughing when he turns back to him.

"That, I can do."

 

Magnus enjoys his stay. It seems strange to say that about running an errand, but he finds himself rather liking the company of this man he doesn't know. He's friendly and helpful, but in a reserved kind of way, and he doesn't talk over Magnus or force any selling pitches on him. Magnus appreciates that―too often, he's found that those who provide things for other witches see themselves as better or just generally better-informed than most, no matter how well-read and experienced the customer is. They can be obnoxious. This man is anything but.

He also seems open to modernizing, which is another thing many witches don't approve of; there's tradition, they say, and certain impressions to maintain. In other words, the kind of people who frown upon keeping one's spell collection on a flash drive, for example, or pouring brewed potions into old water bottles. Personally, Magnus is fond of the more traditional aesthetic―his tinted glass potion bottles and leather-bound books will be pried from his cold, dead hands―but he still appreciates that this shop has pastel bullet journals as well as more traditional-looking grimoires. It seems that this man likes to break convention, if only in such subtle ways.

By the time Magnus is ready to pay for his haul―a collection of basic tools and ingredients much like the ones he threw out some time ago, and therefore needs to replace―it's been the better part of an hour. He knows the shop is closing soon; it's already dark outside. And he really should leave, either way. He has already stayed too long.

"Thank you," Magnus says, accepting the sturdy paper bag the man hands him over the counter, once he's paid. The handles are of twine, with a simple logo on the sides, nowhere near as ostentatious as many shops would go for. Just like with everything else about this shop, from the lack of clutter to the plain black sweater and jeans of its keeper, it's simple. Practical, first and foremost.

"You are most welcome," the man says. "I hope you've got everything you need."

"I'm sure I do." Magnus tilts his head. "And if not, you'll probably be seeing me again."

_Why did I say that?_

The man opens his mouth as though to reply, but ends up just exhaling the smallest laugh and curving his mouth into a half-smile, instead. He nods.

"Come by, anytime," he says. Magnus smiles and turns to leave, but almost immediately pauses. He takes a breath, softly rubs his gloved fingers together in thought. Something has been at the back of his mind since his first visit, like an itch, a warning, and he just has to soothe it.

"I'm Magnus, by the way," he says, smoothly turning back around. "I don't think we've been formally introduced." He cocks his head. "I mean, I've been here twice now, I'd say we're at least at the acquaintance stage."

The shopkeeper blinks, before breaking into a slightly surprised, crooked smile.

"Good point," he says. "I'm Alec. Lightwood," he adds, gesturing at the shop's entrance and, by extension, the sign hanging above it outside. Magnus frowns, glances at the door before turning back.

"So that's your actual name?" he says, and Alec nods. "Hm. I just thought it sounded a bit..." He gestures airily.

"Magic-ish?" Alec finishes for him. Magnus breathes a laugh.

"Yes," he says. "You could say that."

Alec nods, doesn't seem the least bit surprised by Magnus's logic; he must have heard it before.

"Well, it's an old family name," he says. "We've been around for a while."

"Ah." Magnus pauses, processing that information. After a moment, though, he takes a breath, puts on a smile. "Well, it's been lovely to meet you, Alec. Have a good night."

"You, too." Alec's voice is oddly quiet when he says it, but he still returns Magnus's smile. It's a nice smile. Magnus tries not to think about it as he turns around and leaves the shop.

 

X

 

"So who was that?" Isabelle says, and Alec looks up. His sister is leaning against the wall by the shop's entrance, the door now locked, with the _closed_ sign flipped outward. Her arms are folded over her chest, and Alec frowns.

"Who?" he asks.

"That guy," Izzy says, cocking her head toward the door. "The one who came in earlier. The hot one."

She adds it with a pointed eyebrow-raise, and Alec gives her a flat look.

"A customer," he says, looking back down at his binder. Paperwork isn't the most exciting part of owning and running a business, but he honestly doesn't hate it as much as most people would. He actually finds the organization of it rather therapeutic, on occasion.

"Whom you spent ages helping," Izzy points out. Alec sighs tiredly.

"Last time I checked," he says, making a note in the margins with his pen, "that's actually a major part of my job description."

"Sure." The tone in Izzy's voice tells Alec clearly that she expects him to ask her to elaborate, and he resists it for all of four seconds, before looking up.

"What?" he says flatly. As though surprised by his confused reaction, Izzy lets out an incredulous laugh.

"Oh my god," she says, smiling. "I'm saying, you were flirting. You know that, right?"

Alec straightens, makes a face.

"No, I wasn't," he says, as though it's the dumbest idea he's ever heard―which it is, he tells himself―and looks back down at his work.

"I know it's been ages since you properly talked to a cute boy," Izzy says dryly, "but come on. And if it's any consolation, you weren't half-bad at it, this time."

Alec shifts in his seat.

"Just 'cause you flirt as easily as breathing," he mutters, leaning his elbow against the counter, "doesn't mean everyone does."

Izzy doesn't immediately reply to that, instead giving Alec a moment to think about the man she's referring to. _Magnus._ Somehow, knowing his name has brought a new layer to Alec's idea of him, and he'd be lying if he said he hasn't been thinking about him every minute since he left, barely an hour ago. He'll probably be thinking of him much longer than that, and Izzy voicing any of this isn't helping.

Izzy sighs, pushes away from the wall.

"He's legit, at least," she says, more serious now. Alec looks up.

"You mean, unlike half my clientele?" he says, and Izzy throws him a look, but she knows he's right.

"They're not all bad," she says, absently adjusting some hand-painted tealight holders sitting on a shelf, some bearing the same kind of symbol that Alec used to heat his coffee, just the other day.

"No," Alec agrees, looking back down. "But half of them. Mundanes coming in here on some new age kick, inspired by some article or thinkpiece they saw, or for whatever Halloween theme party they're throwing. Just buy some stuff and then never come back again."

Alec scratches the back of his head with his pen, thinking of the endless amount of customers that have only ever made one―albeit enthusiastic―visit, only to inevitably lose interest. Not that it bothers him; at least they buy stuff, and that's what this shop is for. It's why the generic, commercial stuff is placed in a certain spot to draw the attention of customers who are only here for that. Alec may roll his eyes at those who buy it, and while he realizes that might be a little elitist, he has a business to run and therefore doesn't feel too bad about it.

"True," Izzy agrees. "But at least, uh―" She snaps her fingers, thinking, and Alec glances up. "Um."

"Magnus," Alec supplies, before he can stop himself, and Izzy gives him a look that's far too smug for his taste.

"Right," she says. "Magnus. At least he's not like that." Her eyes narrow, a smile shaping her lips. "And you remember his name."

"He was here forty-five minutes ago," Alec points out evenly, gesturing at the door.

"Still."

"I've got plenty of customers I know by name." Alec straightens in his seat, which is just far enough away from the shelves of small, wooden boxes behind him to not be a danger in knocking them down. That would be a hassle to deal with, for a number of reasons. "It's not that weird."

"Didn't say it was."

Alec glares at his sister, half-wishes that he'd never taken her up on her offer to jump in and help out at the shop if he ever needed it.

Izzy, now bored waiting for Alec to get his work done, rolls her head back with a groan and walks past him toward the back room, to get her coat and purse.

"Come on," she says, smacking his arm. "Finish up tomorrow. I'm hungry, and you owe me sushi."

Alec exhales heavily, but obligingly puts away the binder and stretches his arms above his head. His sweeps his gaze over the counter to make sure everything is in order, before he spots something, and pauses. There, a small piece of raw hematite nestled against the raised edge of the counter, behind a bowl of neatly tied sage sprigs. He distinctly remembers Magnus buying such a stone earlier, and it must have fallen aside when Alec packed everything for him, which is strange in itself; Alec never messes up like that. He never gets distracted enough for it to happen.

Magnus would want this back, must notice that it's missing.

Alec considers that for a few moments, before opening a small drawer behind the counter and gently placing the stone there for safekeeping. He pushes it shut. The stone will be waiting there for Magnus when he comes back.

 

X

 

Magnus stirs his tea, can feel Catarina's eyes on him. He looks up.

"What?" he asks, an almost suspicious edge to his tone. Catarina presses her lips together, chin in her hand.

"I haven't seen you like this in a while," she eventually says. Magnus frowns.

"How?"

"I'm not sure." Catarina sighs, folds her arms against the small table between. "You seem... lighter. Less tense."

Magnus looks back down at his tea, stirs it once more before taking a sip.

"Well," he says casually, "that yoga class you recommended must be working wonders, then."

"Very funny," Catarina says with a tired smile. "I'm serious." A pause. "You're practicing again, aren't you?"

Magnus stops stirring for a second, caught off-guard but at the same time not at all; of course, Catarina would notice.

"Maybe," he admits, sipping his tea. It's a blend of hibiscus and raspberry―not as good as the one he makes himself, but the one this café makes comes pretty close. He mostly comes here for the atmosphere, anyway, the place witch-run and comfortable in a way few other places like it are, in his experience. Despite the fact that he hasn't personally been involved in magical matters for quite some time.

"Maybe?" Catarina tilts her head. "The difference in you is pretty obvious."

Magnus looks up, and his friend raises her eyebrows. He thinks of how he has spent the past few days breaking in his new set of tools and ingredients, doing basic spells he used to do as a teen, as though to slowly ease back into it, before quickly working up to the more advanced stuff he'd already mastered by the time he stopped practicing entirely. He'd be flat-out lying if he said it didn't feel amazing to be working with magic again, like breathing properly after ages of stifling constraints.

"So what if I am practicing?" Magnus says, straightening in his seat. Catarina shrugs.

"I'd say, it's great," she says. "You've missed it, no matter what you try to tell yourself. But you've also stayed as far away from it as possible for years. Why the change of heart?"

Magnus has a brief thought of Alec, someone whose general demeanor drew him in the moment they met, whose kindness and contradictory quiet piqued a curiosity in Magnus that only brought his mind to magic. Catarina, of course, seems to know exactly what he's thinking; she's one of Magnus's oldest friends.

"This doesn't have anything to do with the guy at the shop, does it?" she asks it teasingly, as though half-expecting it to be the case, but also doubting it; she knows Magnus went back there the other day, and that Alec was a big part of why he found it worthwhile. Magnus sighs, deciding to simply forego any pretense, for once, teasing or otherwise.

"Even if it did," he says, bringing the light, ceramic teacup to his lips to take a sip, "it wouldn't matter."

Catarina frowns.

"Why not?" she asks, before adding, in a slightly more obvious tone, "He's cute. I know you think so."

Magnus twists his mouth petulantly, but his friend just laughs, taking sip of her own tea.

"He is," Magnus admits. "I do. But it would be pointless to pursue, regardless."

"Since when are you so insecure?"

"I'm not."

"Then, why?"

Magnus pauses, looks down. He can't believe why he has even entertained any idea of this, in the first place.

"Because he's a Lightwood."

That takes Catarina by surprise, before she quickly recovers.

"Well, the shop is named 'Lightwood'," she dryly points out.

"I'm aware," Magnus says, just as dryly. "But in our community, that could mean a lot of things. I just wanted to make sure, so I did."

"Uh-huh."

Magnus looks up at Catarina's doubtful tone.

"What?" he asks. Catarina heaves a sigh, leaning back in her chair, cradling her cup in one hand.

"You like him," she says. "Or at the very least, you're interested. Enough to ask for his name." A pause. "Enough to want to make sure he doesn't belong to a family that hates yours just as much as yours hates them." She presses her lips together, something concerned about her expression now. "Why _did_ you ask? You've met him twice. I mean, I know you're the type to fall fast and hard, but..."

She shakes her head, and Magnus just watches her for a few moments.

"I don't know," he eventually says, truthfully. "There's just something about him, I suppose."

 

X

 

"You forgot this," Alec says, almost a week after Magnus's second visit. "Last time."

He holds out the piece of hematite he's been keeping carefully tucked away, and Magnus, confused, accepts it. He gasps softly when he recognizes it.

"I thought I was missing something," he says, turning the stone over between his fingers. "I just figured I'd forgotten, I was going to buy one today."

"Well, you already did," Alec says. "Thought I'd keep it for you till you came back."

He feels a little silly, saying it out loud, but then Magnus's mouth tugs in a smile as he looks up, and Alec forgets absolutely everything for a second.

"Thank you," Magnus says. "That's very sweet."

He seems a little startled for a moment, as though he didn't mean to say that, but Alec is too distracted by the sincerity of it to really notice or care. There's a unique kind of warmth traveling up along his spine, and he takes a deep breath.

"Don't mention it," he says, thankfully not betraying his own feelings too much. "Just doing my job."

He smiles, and Magnus just stares for a second. Alec isn't exactly lying; an object is often chosen for a reason, often due to the person resonating with whatever energy it has. Any other piece of hematite might not have been the same as the one Magnus specifically chose himself, and he seems to immediately recognize this particular piece as his own. He also seems to appreciate the gesture, which makes it all worth it.

"Right," Magnus says after a moment, the word more of an exhale. He smiles. "Still. Thank you."

Alec just nods, and that seems to be enough.

They barely said hello when Magnus just now stepped into the shop on this late October afternoon, before Alec practically ambushed him with returning the stone, to the point where Alec almost felt a little embarrassed at himself. Magnus doesn't seem to mind, though, which is nice. And the shop is momentarily empty, anyway, since the latest customer left just as Magnus arrived.

"Uh," Alec starts eloquently, remembering that Magnus isn't here to see him, specifically. "What can I help you with today?"

He says it lightly, almost teasingly, and Magnus breathes a laugh. Then he considers the question for a moment, before shrugging.

"Actually," he says, "I just came for this."

He holds up the piece of hematite, and Alec feels oddly disappointed. He's not sure what he expected; this is Magnus's third visit in two weeks, and he has already covered most of the basics he'd need to get back into practicing. Why else would he come here?

"Right," Alec says, nodding. He pushes up the sleeves of his sweater, suddenly feeling rather warm, and he notices how Magnus's eyes are momentarily drawn to the black tattoo below his left elbow―the same tattoo inked into the skin of every other member of his family, as well as his family's coven.

Symbols and tattoos like it are not a strange sight on a witch, and while Magnus seems a little stunned by it, he shakes it off so quickly that Alec barely notices.

"Unless you have any other recommendations?" Magnus asks slowly, as though trying to think of something to say, as he meets Alec's eye again. Alec tries not to let that affect him―Magnus is not here for him, he reminds himself, no matter how badly Alec might want the opposite to be the case.

Still, he thinks, he'll admit that the exciting notion of it is entertained for a moment or two.

"Depends," he says. "You covered pretty much everything, last time. And I get the impression that you know this stuff just as well as I do."

He adds it pointedly, and Magnus gives him a conspiring look.

"Maybe," he admits. "But a second opinion can't hurt."

Alec huffs a laugh, rolling his eyes slightly. Magnus seems to approve of the reaction, smiling in a way that makes his eyes crinkle, and Alec can't help but think of how it feels like they already know each other. As though this is just the kind of interaction they have all the time, as though he knows Magnus's idiosyncrasies well enough to be fondly exasperated by them.

It makes him want to ask about other things, things that have nothing to do with the craft or its associations. What's Magnus's favorite movie? What's his favorite food? Does he have any pets? Siblings? Is he more of a morning person or a night owl? Does he prefer coffee or tea? Light or dark chocolate?

 _Is he single?_ Alec makes sure to quickly push that particular thought out of his mind―because he's pretty sure that particular idea is rather one-sided. At most, Magnus is going from _acquaintance_ to _friend,_ and he's more than happy enough about that.

He takes a deep breath and exhales, folding his arms over his chest.

"You're a little early," he says lightly, "but we've got a bunch of fun stuff coming in next week. For the median."

Magnus nods slowly, as though he had somehow forgotten about that.

"Noted," he says. Alec frowns at the odd tone in his voice.

"Not your thing?" he says. Certain points of the year are objectively important to all witches, but he's aware that many prefer spending them quietly, rather than make a big affair out of it. And while the autumnal median―what most would call Halloween―doesn't exactly have a creative name, it's just what it is to most who practice the craft; an important, powerful midway point between the autumn equinox and the winter solstice. Traditionally a harvest festival, or a day to celebrate the dead, or to take advantage of the eased access to other, elusive realms.

"I wouldn't say that," Magnus says. "It's just..."

"Been a while?" Alec supplies, almost teasingly, and Magnus throws him a narrow-eyed look.

"Oh, it's been years," Magnus says, before adding a slightly self-conscious chuckle. "Years."

Alec presses his lips together, resisting the urge to smile too big at Magnus's endearing hint of awkwardness.

"I get that," he says, instead. "I haven't been to a proper celebration in ages. My parents don't like that much, of course. Tradition, and all that. My sister doesn't go anymore, either. None of my siblings do. Except the youngest, but that's also 'cause... well, he's the youngest. Doesn't really have a choice."

He shrugs, and Magnus smiles, a little wearily.

"I've always been more of the solitary type," Magnus says. "When it comes to that, at least."

Alec nods. Then, unbidden, an idea slips into his mind. He licks his lips and rolls them over his teeth, doesn't look directly at Magnus for a second, shifting his shoulders slightly in a restless gesture. Then he exhales, turns back. _What the hell._

"Well," he says, his tone maybe a little too casual, "I was gonna go to Central Park later. Just for a bit. There's a new moon tonight and, well, can't really enjoy those things with all the city noise." A pause, a tentative one. He cocks his head. "You could come, if you want."

Magnus blinks. He clearly wasn't expecting that.

"Uh," he says, and Alec continues, trying to do some damage control since Magnus obviously isn't entirely comfortable with that suggestion.

"It's nothing big," Alec hastily explains. "No circle, or anything. I just like to be there, just take a minute. It's nice. You know?" He takes a breath, exhales, slightly panicking now. He shouldn't have asked. "But if you're busy, or it's not your thing, I get it―"

"I'd love to," Magnus interrupts gently. Alec blinks.

"Yeah?" he says, in soft surprise.

"Yes." Magnus glances away, mouth quirking in a small smile. "Like I said, it's been a while. It could be nice."

Alec swallows, nods.

"Okay, good," he says, still unable to quite believe it. "Uh, I'm closing up in about an hour, I'll be heading out then."

He wonders if Magnus will accept to wait that long for something so trivial as keeping a stranger company, but Magnus simply inclines his head, putting him at ease.

"Then I'll be back in an hour," he says, without hesitation. Alec nods, a tentative smile on his face.

"Great."

 

X

 

Magnus has always prided himself on his own sense of discipline. Sticking to things he knows are good for him, staying away from the bad. Therefore, it frustrates him to no end that it appears entirely ineffective when it comes to Alec.

He didn't plan to end up walking through Central Park with this man, surrounded by darkness held at bay by artificial lights. He didn't plan to feel good about it, to feel steady and surprisingly non-awkward as they spend much of the walk in shared silence, both of them drawn in the same direction. There's a ley line running directly underneath them, and Magnus can sense its intersection with two others up ahead; he knows Alec must sense it, too. Such an intersection is ideal in terms of tapping into unadulterated magic, untouched by human influence, and it can be hard to even find them in such a large, loud city with so many sensory distractions.

Magnus didn't plan for any of this. But a crooked smile and a kind favor, and he momentarily forgot whatever excuse he'd thought up to come back to the shop today―as in, one that didn't involve seeing Alec again. Because that's definitely not why he went. Definitely not, it was purely practical. But Alec had made the effort to keep Magnus's chosen stone tucked away, knowing what it meant, and how were Magnus's defenses supposed to hold against such an endearing gesture?

Still, he shouldn't be here, he knows that much. Yet Alec seems to be attracting and pulling him along like a magnet.

"Up ahead, I think," Alec says after a full two minutes of silence. Comfortable silence.

He gestures in a general direction, and that's where they go, soon finding themselves at the edge of a small lake. Magnus can feel that they're in the right place, the ground thrumming with energy where the ley lines intersect, and he's somehow grateful that no one else is around. There are plenty of other places for a witch to go, on a night like this.

Magnus looks up, as does Alec.

The moon is practically invisible, as expected. There's maybe the slightest little sliver of white, if you know where to look, but aside from that, the sky is entirely black and clear. It makes the stars shine brighter, somehow, without the distraction of the moon. It's beautiful, in its own way. Magnus wonders when he last took the time to enjoy it.

But just gazing at the sky isn't quite why they're here, after all―the new moon provides a certain kind of energy, just like everything else, and the air is softly vibrating with it.

"It doesn't quite get the attention it deserves, does it?" Magnus says absently, eyes automatically drawing patterns between the stars, forming one constellation after another.

"What doesn't?" Alec says, turning to him.

"The new moon."

Alec considers that for a second.

"Yeah," he says, looking back up at the sky. "I like it better, actually. Everyone's all about the full moon, and I get that. Lots of energy, lots of power. A culmination. Good for a lot of things." A pause, and Magnus turns to look at him. There's something calm about his expression, eyes turned upwards. "This is more... quiet. Just as powerful, but quiet. I like that better."

 _Of course you do,_ Magnus wants to say, but he keeps it to himself. It would be a strange thing to say. This is only their fourth time interacting at all, it would be strange to so confidently imply that he knows Alec well enough to be unsurprised by such a preference.

He thinks about Alec's tattoo. Black, simple, depicting a symbol that Magnus knows all too well, part of a language of symbols Magnus himself will never use. It's a stark reminder of why he shouldn't be drawn to this guy the way he is, why he out loud explained to Catarina how it was a bad idea and why she understood his reasoning.

They stand in silence for a little bit, Magnus vaguely noting the squirrels and small birds rustling in the trees around them. It makes him smile. Animals sense magic in a way entirely different from humans, instinctively and curiously, especially when witches are around to channel it. As he thinks about it, Magnus sees Alec move in the periphery of his vision, and he turns. Alec raises his hand, slowly, palm down, and Magnus sees a handful of fallen, dry leaves swirl up from the ground in response.

"Mom used to tell us not to do this in public," Alec says, gently coaxing the leaves up through the air. "That we'd be seen and things would go bad. But I learned pretty early on that people don't really care, anyway. Especially not here, in a city like New York." He turns over his hand and gently swirls the brown, dry leaves in a slow upward spiral from his palm, eyes fixed on the movement with a kind of curiosity Magnus has rarely seen in someone so used to magic. "Some random guy making leaves move? Plenty of weirder things happen here on a regular basis."

Magnus exhales a laugh through his nose, a reaction which Alec seems to appreciate, judging by his smile.

"Good point," Magnus says. His eyes go to the floating leaves, rather than Alec's face, and he lifts his own hand, making a beckoning motion with his fingers. Obediently, the leaves gently drift on an unseen stream of air to settle in a spiral over Magnus's palm instead, and Alec gives him a flat look. Magnus can't help but reply with a smirk, which only makes Alec's small smile widen.

"Show-off," he says, and Magnus raises his eyebrows.

"Oh, if you want me to show off," he says, "I can do a lot more than that."

"Oh, me too," Alec says, with false haughtiness. "Just didn't want you to feel intimidated."

Magnus's smirk turns into a grin, and he looks away to focus on the leaves above his palm rather than Alec's face. He suddenly feels rather warm beneath his scarf, despite the fact that it's only just warm enough outside for his breath not to show up as a puff of smoke when he exhales. Odd.

"Seems kind of fitting, doesn't it?" Alec says, and Magnus throws him a glance.

"What does?" he says.

"Well, you said you haven't practiced in a while." Alec gestures at the void space where the new moon hides in the night sky. "New beginnings, and all."

Magnus doesn't look up, just watches Alec's face, instead. He can't seem to stop watching that face. Eyes wide, lips parted, the tip of Alec's nose turning slightly pink from the cold.

"I suppose you're right." Magnus says it in a lower voice than intended, and Alec seems to pick up on the particular tone, because he turns to him, expression warm and attentive.

The leaves above Magnus's palm suddenly dart up in a tight spiral, so quickly and high up that it makes both himself and Alec jerk in surprise. Magnus, somehow embarrassed, immediately drops his focus and quickly lowers his hand, sending the leaves falling to the ground instead, settling among countless others as though they were never disturbed to begin with.

He feels rather silly, all of a sudden. What an absurdly basic thing to mess up.

"You should take your gloves off," Alec suggests lightly, eyebrows raised with a small, almost amused smile. "Remove the barrier."

Magnus narrows his eyes, keeping them on Alec as he pointedly pulls off his gloves and gathers them up in one hand, before smacking them against Alec's chest. Alec snorts, surprised, and it makes Magnus's heart sing.

"I'll manage just fine, thank you," he says flatly, and Alec nods, lips pressed together.

"And yet, you took them off." Magnus throws him another narrow-eyed glare, but Alec just straightens where he stands and gazes out over the lake instead, grinning. Magnus hates him.

He looks down at his now bare hands, his rings glinting in the low light. He rubs his fingers together slowly, turns over his left hand as though to study it from different angles.

"It's been a while, okay?" he says, still keeping the dry, light tone. Alec hums.

"So you've mentioned," he says.

He turns back to Magnus, eyebrows raised, and Magnus smiles, shakes his head as he looks back down. He curls his fingers into a loose fist, flexing them, trying to recall just how easily he used to do even the most complex things. It's like trying to remember all the words to an old favorite song; he's got most of them, but bits and pieces are still missing.

He senses some hesitation from Alec.

"May I?" Alec asks, and Magnus looks up. Alec nods at his hand, and Magnus inclines his head in permission, turning so that they're facing each other properly.

He's not sure what he expects Alec to do, but he's decidedly not ready for the tiny jolt he feels when Alec's fingertips touch his palm. They run along the skin, gently, and Magnus feels rather than sees the barely-there currents trailing behind, gently tangling together with Magnus's own.

Alec straightens a little.

"Yours feels different," he says quietly. It's not quite cold enough outside for the lack of gloves to at once be uncomfortable, but Magnus wouldn't pull away even if it were; Alec's touch is too pleasant to lose, just yet. It sends tentative shivers up along his arm, beneath his coat, under his shirt.

"Different, how?" Magnus asks, his voice as low as Alec's. He knows what Alec is referring to, can feel how the young man's solid, warm energy―his magic―differs from his own, more jagged kind.

"It feels," Alec starts, "angry." He looks up, quickly adding, "Not like _you're_ angry. Just― It feels strong. Contained."

Magnus considers that for a moment, cocks his eyebrows.

"Quite the poet, aren't you?" he says, and Alec breathes a laugh, looking back down as though to hide his smile. Magnus wishes he wouldn't, but at the same time, he must admit that this reaction is almost as lovely as the smile itself.

Emboldened, Magnus moves his fingers just slightly, touching Alec's hand lightly as it hovers above his own. Alec flinches just the slightest bit in surprise, but relaxes into it when Magnus channels a soft stream of magic through his fingertips, weaving it into Alec's own unique energy, just like Alec is doing with his. It trails along Alec's skin as Magnus smoothes his touch over the pad of his thumb, up along his fingers, increasing the flow of his magic just a little, watching Alec react. Alec's breathing has slowed down a bit, a little heavier than before, eyes still focused on where his and Magnus's hands connect. He swallows.

The gentle increase of magic running into Magnus's skin is sudden, and Magnus gasps softly, but doesn't pull away. He doesn't, because it feels good. It feels bright, tender, excited, and he takes a deep breath, decides to respond in kind. Alec's reaction is a beautiful one, similar to his own, and they soon find themselves slowly building it up, eased and heightened by the source beneath the ground they stand on, by the invisible moon in the sky. By whatever it is that's allowing them to connect so readily, in such an effortless way.

Magnus forgets where they are after a while, forgets that they're in a giant park in the middle of a giant city, surrounded by millions of people and cold and darkness. All he feels is Alec, and it's all he sees when their eyes meet. Magnus can feel the magic moving around them, slowly spiraling, like the leaves that floated on unseen currents what feels like forever ago. Magnus can't remember being anywhere but here, now.

It's a palpable thing, passing between them, a steady, weaving stream, visible only as a slight shimmer in the air. It makes the hairs rise on Magnus's arms, traveling across his shoulders, down his spine, up along his neck and warming him from the inside against the cold. He inhales, breathing it into his lungs and feeling it spread, watching Alec's cheeks flush with what must be a similar sensation. Magnus isn't sure how or when, but they've both shifted closer, eyes absently searching each other's features, breaths mingling in the evening chill.

Alec's fingers are warm against Magnus's own, slowly wrapping around his hand in a grip that's soft and steady in such a perfect, contradicting way. Magnus swears it sends a jolt through his body, that invisible connection locking into place, and he takes a deep, deep breath. Alec smells so wonderful, the warm static of magic filtering through it and making Magnus's head spin. So close, heat radiating off his body―Magnus can feel it, even through layers of clothing, the sensation so much more than just physical. There's the strangest tug in his chest, incessant and soft, as he watches Alec's dazed, hazel-brown eyes.

Magnus realizes, in that moment, that the only thing that might stop him from kissing Alec right now is if Alec kisses him first. He lets that notion linger for a moment, like a soap bubble, floating in the periphery of his vision, iridescent and fragile and still.

He blinks.

"Maybe I should go," he says quietly, before that bubble can burst or even fully form. Alec doesn't hesitate, for once.

"Maybe you shouldn't," he says.

Magnus desperately doesn't want to.

"No, I should," he says, sobering up and taking a step back. His hand slides out of Alec's, lingering for as long as possible as the magical connection is lost, fingertips brushing together lightly. The soap bubble slowly fades away. It does not burst. "I have work in the morning, and it's getting late."

It's not even remotely about that, he reminds himself sheepishly. They both know it.

A sudden chill comes over him, as though whatever contained little space the two of them just had has quietly been cracked open. He puts his gloves back on. Alec looks vaguely disappointed, but honestly not that surprised.

"Okay," he says, nodding. He puts his hands in the pockets of his jacket; he must feel the chill, too. He hesitates. "Can I see you tomorrow?" Magnus pauses, holds his gaze, seconds away from saying that he'll probably be coming by the shop sometime anyway, before Alec clarifies. "Properly, I mean. Coffee?"

Alec shrugs, and there's a certain helplessness to it, as though he's just throwing caution to the wind at this point, as though he has nothing to lose. Magnus can't blame him. Something here has irreversibly changed, and they both know it.

Still, Magnus tells himself that he should decline the offer.

"Yeah," he says instead. "I can do that."

He realizes, as he replies, that Alec essentially just asked him out on a date. And more importantly, that he just said yes. Alec nods, his expression even.

"Okay," he says. "Just― Stop by the shop, when you can. I'll make time."

Magnus nods, takes another step back. The evening suddenly does feel very cold. Maybe it really is just getting late, the chill really setting in―they have been standing out here for a while now, after all.

"I will." Magnus takes a breath, exhales. He might be imagining the way Alec's eyes dart to his lips as he parts them, that's what he tells himself. He has no idea what he's doing here, to begin with. "I'll see you tomorrow."

There seems to be a mutual understanding that they won't be leaving together, right now. Instead, Alec just watches him turn around and walk away, and Magnus doesn't look back.

But Alec's touch stays, a phantom sensation on his palm.

 

X

 

Magnus does come by the shop the next day, as promised. It's difficult, but he does it, and Alec looks as though he was half-expecting him not to. No time is wasted, however, and Alec's sister takes over to allow him and Magnus to leave. Magnus notices her furrowed brow as she watches them walk away, through the storefront window, and he wonders how much―if anything―Alec has told her about all of this.

Alec chooses where they go, and Magnus is glad to not have to think about it, himself. They end up at a coffee shop quite similar to the one Magnus likes to frequent, and it's only once they've both sat down in a corner by a condensation-covered, large window, that they take a minute to talk.

"So," Alec says, a little apprehensively, as though unsure of how to broach any of this. "Last night."

Magnus doesn't immediately reply. It sounds strange, but he almost feels as though they had a one-night stand, as though something happened and they both know it, something that meant something without meaning to.

"Last night," he eventually repeats. Alec waits for him to elaborate, and takes a deep breath when he doesn't.

"It was," he starts, leaning back in his chair, fingers running along the sides of his coffee cup. "Intense."

Magnus holds his gaze.

"Understatement," he says, unable to say it without at least a thin layer of humor. Alec quirks a small smile, and the tone feels a little bit lighter after that.

"Can I ask you something?" Alec says. Magnus nods. "Why'd you leave?"

Magnus isn't surprised―he would have been more surprised if Alec hadn't asked, for obvious reasons. He sighs.

"Because I feel there's something I should mention," he says, "and it didn't seem like the right time."

Alec straightens a little, a small frown on his face.

"Okay," he says, quietly prompting Magnus to continue. Magnus just watches him for a few seconds, convincing himself that this is for the best. He takes a deep breath, exhales.

"My last name is Bane," he says, almost dryly. He can't help but both feel and show his wariness, the words so simple and innocuous, yet their meaning anything but. Alec just blinks.

"Oh," he simply says, despite his obvious surprise. He clearly knows the name in question, and its associations. Then, after several seconds, "So?"

Magnus frowns.

"So," he says, "I'm pretty sure your family hates me."

Alec processes that for a moment.

"Well, I'm not my family," he says, as though it's the simplest thing in the world. "And I don't hate you."

"We both know it's more complicated than that." Magnus can't help but say it rather dryly, and the look on Alec's face tells him that Alec, unfortunately, knows exactly what he's talking about. Alec purses his lips slightly, brow furrowed.

"Well, why didn't you tell me sooner?" he asks, without any accusation. "I mean, if it matters so much to you."

Alright, there may be some dryness in his second sentence, but Magnus takes it in stride. He deserves it.

"Because it didn't seem relevant," he says.

"You knew who I was the moment you stepped into my shop," Alec says evenly. "You didn't seem to mind, then."

"It's not you that I mind," Magnus hurries to say, leaning forward. "It's not even your family that I mind."

"Then what?"

"It's _my_ family," Magnus says, suddenly feeling rather vulnerable. " _They_ mind. I don't know what they'd do, or what yours might. Regardless of if you care, or I care, they both would. You know that."

It sounds odd, saying it out loud, archaic. None of it should matter, in this day and age. But if there's anything that old lines like the Lightwoods care about, it's tradition―which would just as readily apply to the people Magnus only call family by blood, if even that. It seems silly to address it at all at such an early stage as this, as though there's more between Magnus and Alec than a handful of conversations and one moment in a park, as though they owe each other some kind of explanation or discussion about whether or not this should continue, even though it hasn't even really begun.

But Magnus knows. He knows this tug in his heart, and he needs to nip it in the bud. He owes Alec the courtesy of at least explaining why.

"Well, what are they gonna do?" Alec asks, defiantly, frowning. "They'd be pissed, sure, but they'd get over it."

"I highly doubt that."

"My family can be a real shitshow," Alec says. "And if not them, then the coven it belongs to. But they still can't do shit about something like this. Yours can't be that much worse, can it?"

"You don't understand," Magnus says, leaning forward slightly. "I didn't grow up learning how to levitate leaves and heat up my tea. I went straight to the part where you use that same intent to hurt others for your own gain. That's what my lessons were about. And those lessons also held the idea that everyone else, including any witch who _doesn't_ use magic that way, is foolish and weak, and deserves to be taken advantage of." He pauses, watches Alec's reaction; it's calm, unreadable, but attentive.

"I saw the full effects of that once I was properly initiated," Magnus continues. "And I suppose you could say that my teenage rebellion was to go against all that, and leave." He shakes his head. "Which wasn't easy. Some covens are more strict and loyalty-bound than others, as you well know, and this was one of them. After that, using magic, practicing, only served to remind me of what I'd left, and no matter how hard I tried, it was as though it always came back to that. For most of my life, magic was to destroy, to take, and I could never quite figure out how to do it differently, so I just stopped trying. Until recently."

 _Until I met you._ Magnus doesn't say that part out loud, wouldn't dream of it. Instead, he leans back in his seat, suddenly feeling exhausted and raw. He hadn't planned to say any of that. At most, he'd intended to tell Alec the truth about his heritage, and just leave it at that―surely, someone with Alec's background wouldn't want to associate with someone like him, let alone date them, no matter what he says. Because that seems to have been the direction this has been going, even if it's fast. But Magnus still didn't mean to bare his soul like this, and he's already regretting it.

Alec just makes such things infuriatingly easy to do.

Magnus closes his eyes, exhales.

"They're capable of horrible things," he says wearily. "That's why."

"Why, what?"

"Why we can't do this." Magnus looks up at Alec, whose brow is still furrowed, in a way more determined than annoyed. "Why it's a bad idea."

"I know why," Alec says, plainly, evenly. "And I don't care."

Magnus lets himself have that for a moment, lets himself melt into the lovely memory of last night, the prospect of having Alec so close, feeling his breath on his face, his fingers against his skin, magic flowing between them like an entity of its own, binding them together. A sensation that he hasn't felt in what seems like a lifetime. The memory makes his heart beat a little faster, his chest light.

Then Alec pushes the sleeves of his sweater up a little further, as though by habit, and it draws Magnus's focus to the distinctive tattoo on his lower arm. It yanks him right out of whatever daze he just temporarily let himself sink into, and he straightens in his seat, looks Alec dead in the eye.

"Look," Magnus says, hardening, trying not to sound too irritated or abrasive; none of this is Alec's fault, after all. "I came today not knowing what I'd say. I shouldn't have said yes to begin with, because I know this is a bad idea, just like I knew it last night."

"What is?" Alec asks. It's not a real question, this time. It's a challenge, once again, daring Magnus to say out loud what they both already know; there's something here, something equally inexplicable and undeniable, and someone has to say it. They can't end it if they can't say it.

But Magnus doesn't want to say it. It'll become real if he says it. He doesn't even really know what _it_ is.

He runs his fingers along the edges of his abandoned teacup, hesitates.

"I―" he tries, anyway. Then he looks down. "I'm sorry," he eventually says, his voice low. He's not sure what he's sorry for. For letting it get this far? For essentially leading Alec on? For being unable to continue? For being a coward, for this conversation? No matter which, Alec seems to understand, seems unsurprised. He leans back in his seat, sighs.

"I am, too," he says. He sounds about as certain about the reason for it as Magnus, because that's all he says before they lapse into silence, only softly interrupted by the murmur of the café around them. Then Magnus gets up, and leaves.

 

X

 

You can't be heartbroken over losing something you never actually had, right? Alec tries to tell himself that, as he absent-mindedly organizes a shelf of dried herbs, neatly placed in little paper boxes. They're out of order. They're supposed to be alphabetical, but someone has taken it upon themselves to just grab and look and haphazardly put back. Alec hates customers like that. Though he supposes it at least gives him something to do, at times like this.

He hasn't seen Magnus in four days. This wouldn't be odd, considering he didn't exactly come by more frequently before, but Alec knows it's different this time. This time, it's personal, and he has no idea how their relationship leapt from acquaintance to _this_ seemingly in no time at all. _This_ , skipping right past whatever giddy crush was starting to develop, to this _ache_ in his chest. A kind of longing that feels almost physical in its intensity. It's ridiculous, and something he never would have expected to feel. Never for another person, not like this. Not for someone he doesn't even know.

But here he is, aching. He understands why Magnus reacted the way he did, where he's coming from; Alec is just as aware of the divide between certain sides of the magical community as Magnus is. Perhaps even more so. He would be lying if he said that his instinctive reaction upon hearing Magnus's last name wasn't one of shocked disdain. He's not sure it matters that the reaction faded into a different, less negative one just moments later―it was there. Magnus knew that it was, and Alec can't blame him for reasoning about it the way he did.

 _"We both know it's more complicated than that."_ Yes, they do. It's enough to make Alec feel resigned and disappointed, but also accepting, because he does know it's not that simple. Just like Magnus apparently worries about what his family might think or do, Alec worries about his own, even if he didn't outright say it, the other day. All his focus in that moment was on keeping Magnus, to stop him from disappearing just as Alec was starting to get to know him. When Alec had just found him.

But they both know it's more complicated than that. So Alec hasn't tried to contact Magnus, since, hasn't tried to get ahold of his number or find out where he might be. Because his reasoning was sound, and Alec has to accept that. Even if it hurts. Even if none of it really makes sense.

The shop is pretty calm at the moment, and Alec likes it that way. There are four people currently browsing along the aisles, all in one group, talking amongst themselves and not really paying attention to Alec absently organizing and tidying up the place. For once, he can't wait to close up and just go home. Not that he's really the going-out type, normally, but he really just wants to be alone right now.

Magnus Bane is the last person Alec expects to walk through the door. It sends a ripple through his body, a recognition of Magnus's particular energy, before he even looks up at the sound of that tinkling bell. Magnus spots him immediately―he seems both stunned and entirely unsurprised at the sight of him.

A cold pit of nervousness settles in Alec's stomach. It's not entirely unpleasant, just jarring.

Alec straightens, takes a breath, while Magnus glances around the shop, as though to see if they're alone. Upon noticing that they aren't, he turns back to Alec, who deliberates for about a second, before gesturing toward the back room. He trusts the few customers currently in here; they're regulars, and he'd know if anything were missing, once they're gone.

Magnus follows him into the back room, Alec closing the door behind them. It's not a large space, just enough for shelves for storage, and a place to sit down and leave coats and bags and whatever else. Once inside, Alec takes a step back, giving Magnus some space, as the man pulls off his gloves and slowly unbuttons his coat; it's a long, black one this time, small silver studs across the back. His face is a little flushed, no doubt a result of stepping in from cold chill to a warm shop, and he says nothing, glancing around at anywhere but Alec's face. Alec waits patiently, just gazing at his face, and finally, Magnus sighs.

"I shouldn't have left like that," he says. It's soft, but oddly matter-of-fact. "Again." A pause. "I apologize."

Alec takes a breath, exhales. He's not sure if it's because it's been a few days, if it's because he didn't expect to see Magnus again, if it's because of whatever attraction they have, but the close proximity of Magnus in this small space is somehow suddenly intoxicating.

"I understand why you did," Alec says. Their voices both seem loud in the muffled silence of the warmly lit room, and Magnus finds Alec's gaze. "I mean, I don't like it. But I get it."

Magnus watches him for a few moments. He looks scared, Alec realizes, concerned.

"I stand by it," he says. "None of this would be a good idea. We really shouldn't be seeing each other."

Alec shifts his weight, suddenly unsure.

"Then, why did you come here?" he asks. Magnus opens his mouth, closes it. Opens it again, hesitates, sighs.

"Honestly," he says. "I don't know."

He means that, Alec can tell. He doesn't know, much like Alec doesn't know why he feels so strongly about a guy he met barely two weeks ago. Just like Alec doesn't know why he's been unable to stop thinking about that night at the park, the way Magnus's hand felt beneath his fingertips, that coarse magic mingling with his own. But Magnus is here, and that means something. It means everything.

Magnus swallows, holds Alec's gaze for a few more seconds, before glancing away, as though uncertain; it's an odd look on him, all of this is. His eyes are bright from the cold outside, bare hands absently twisting the gloves they hold in what seems like a restless grip. He takes a breath, and for a moment, Alec is afraid he's going to leave―so he tries to stop him.

"I'm glad you did," he blurts. Thankfully, it comes out softer than he thought, and Magnus's eyes find their way back to his. Alec licks his lips, suddenly a little uncertain, though he won't show it. "And for the record, I really don't care who your family is. I care who you are."

He hesitates, but feels emboldened when he sees the way Magnus straightens a little where he stands, as though bracing himself, caught off-guard. Then Magnus smiles, a small, almost bitter expression. It takes on an almost sad edge when he scoffs along with it.

"You don't know me," he says.

"And you don't know me," Alec points out. That seems to surprise Magnus, even more. He swallows, smile slowly disappearing. Alec gets the distinct impression that he wants to say something, that he's torn between leaving and staying here, and all Alec can do is desperately hope he chooses the latter. The way Magnus's brown eyes flit across his face makes him hope, the way he slowly inhales as those eyes land on Alec's mouth. Alec hopes.

Magnus makes his choice pretty clear when he takes a step closer, tilts his head up, and kisses him.

Magnus's lips are cool, soft, almost tentative as they press against Alec's, the autumn wind having left his skin just shy of cold to the touch. Alec inhales deeply, taking in the smell of him, the feel of the warm fabric against his palms as he slides his hands underneath Magnus's unbuttoned coat. It makes Magnus tense up for the briefest second, before he presses in a little closer, sliding a hand up along Alec's neck, cupping his jaw. His fingers are warmer than his face, and Alec sighs against his mouth as the kiss deepens just a little, wrapping his arms around Magnus's torso and holding him close, backing up slightly against the wall so Magnus can lean into him more fully.

Despite there being no magic this time, Alec swears he feels it swirl and dance between them where their bodies are connected, unlike anything else he has felt before. It feels like something clicking into place, and he realizes that he has wanted to do this from the very moment he first laid eyes on this man.

They keep it brief, controlled, no matter how badly they don't want to―this is no time or place to get completely lost in whatever this is. Instead, they pull apart, eyes locked, lips parted, and Alec just lets out a slow, deep breath. He feels dizzy. Magnus's thumb smoothes over Alec's stubbled jaw where his hand still cups his face, his other hand pressed against Alec's chest, gloves still secure in his grip.

"I'd like to know you," Magnus says, so quietly that Alec isn't even sure it's on purpose. Alec isn't sure how to reply.

So he just smiles instead, and feels his heart so wonderfully skip a beat when Magnus does the same.

**Author's Note:**

> And there you go! There might actually be stuff I could (hypothetically) explore with this AU, so maybe I'll consider expanding it with more chapters sometime in the future, who knows. But for now, it's a oneshot, and I hope you liked it.
> 
> You can find me on [the twitters](http://twitter.com/lemonoclefox)! I don't have a tag for this fic, but if I did, it would probably be _#SwayFic_. Thanks for reading!


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